For a split-second, a face flashed, a lightning blip featuring a gaping maw and…long teeth. Gasping, I pulled away. “Did you see that?”
Ethan’s attention snapped back to me. “See what?”
I seriously doubted I could explain it. Maybe what I saw was just in my own mind. “You, uh…kind of zoned out.”
“Sorry.” Ethan tilted his head and the right corner of his lip lifted in a grim half-smile. “I just remembered I have a test today.”
That was some pretty intense zone-age over a forgotten test. Then again, I was hearing voices and seeing things. Who was I to judge “normal” behavior?
The hall was clearing and I was finally able to talk without screaming. “I’d better go. Good luck on your test.”
“Thanks. See you in History.”
As he walked away, I stared after his long stride. Yesterday, the people I’d saved had been faceless. Today, at least one had a face, making me doubly glad I’d called the police. Ethan seemed like a nice enough guy. He might seem intense, but the way he kept to himself didn’t mesh with the kind of behavior that usually got someone kicked out of school. What could he have possibly done to get expelled?
History class was right next door to Homeroom, so I always got there before most everyone else. Pulling out my thick History book, I opened to the section we’d be lectured on today. I never studied (at least not for any school subjects. Teaching myself Latin was a whole other story), but I needed to at least “appear” studious, considering I had a 99% average. Once my desk was set up, I turned to the important stuff—jotting down notes about the rest of my day.
When I couldn’t find my purple ballpoint pen, I remembered that I’d used it to write down the phone number on the Caller ID from my dream—just in case the phone company wouldn’t let me block all unsolicited calls. My favorite pen was on my nightstand instead of where it would normally be, sitting in the third slot in my backpack.
Frowning at the empty slot, I began to dig deep into the bottom of my backpack, even though I knew I wouldn’t find a pen. I hated loose pens, change or anything for that matter, rolling around in the bottom of my backpack. I had a pencil, but writing a note on my hand was impossible with No. 2 lead.
I was frantically searching every single zipper, pocket and crevice in my backpack when someone set a blue pen on my desk and kept on walking.
I watched Ethan take his seat at the back of the classroom and open his notepad. He didn’t look up or acknowledge what he’d done in any way. Instead, he retrieved a pencil from inside the pad’s spiral binding and immediately began to run the dark lead across the paper, completely engrossed.
The blue ink slid across my skin like silk as I wrote the couple of things I wanted to recall on my palm. I never wrote down answers to test questions. My dreams always seared those into my memory. Mostly I just noted other stuff that I didn’t want to forget or situations I wanted to avoid. Like coming out of third period today and seeing Lainey whisper something in Jared’s ear as he grabbed her around the waist. She had stayed after practice yesterday to watch the football players. I’d felt so crappy after letting so many shots into the goal that I’d just gone home.
I wrote two things:
Take long way to 4th pd.
Send flowers.
Curling my fingers closed, I looked up to see Ethan watching me, pencil paused over his paper. I’d never seen him with a pen. From what I could recall, he’d always used a pencil, which meant he knew I was looking for my pen, because…
He’d watched me write on my hand every day.
After third period, Lainey ran up to me in the hallway, swinging her cowhide designer bag over her shoulder. “There you are. Why’d you go this way?”
When I shrugged, offering no reason, Lainey didn’t even notice. Her brown eyes were brimming with anticipation. “Did you hear about, Lila—”
A couple of guys brushed past, one speaking to the other in a loud voice, as if his buddy were across the room instead of right next to him. “What’d you want to do this Friday?”
I frowned after them. “Why’s Aaron screaming?”
“I heard him telling someone that he was wearing his headphones yesterday when a high-pitched sound squealed. He said it hurt so much he almost passed out.”
I winced. “Ouch.”
Lainey pointed to her ear. “Temporary hearing loss. Aaron swears it was interference from an airplane zooming over.” Spinning her hand in an impatient circle, she said, “Anyway, did you hear what happened to her?”
My heart hammered like crazy, but I tried to remain calm and not let the guilt show on my face. “Who?”
“Lila Jenkins.” Lainey drew closer. “She was admitted to Jefferson hospital last night. Supposedly, she was pretty roughed up and they don’t expect her to come back to school for a couple weeks.”
Despite my attempt to remain cool, tears burned behind my eyelids. Hearing about Lila all over again only made my guilt ratchet higher. I blinked rapidly to hold my tears back and wished our school didn’t have a policy against wearing sunglasses inside. “Do they know who did that to her?”
“Nope. Which brings me to the other news. They arrested David Donaldson for planting the bomb.”
“David Donaldson?” I squinted, pretending to remember who he was. “Didn’t he get expelled for beating up that guy over a parking spot?”
“Yeah. Lila was dating David.” Lainey flipped her wavy red hair over her shoulder. The morning mist had totally ruined her flatiron straightening efforts. “Makes me wonder if she’s the one who tipped off the police and that’s why she got beat up.”
“But you said David’s been arrested. Who beat her then?” I desperately hoped that for once my dream was wrong and the police had actually arrested the person responsible for attacking Lila.
Lainey lifted her shoulder, then popped a big pink bubble. “My dad said Lila’s refusing to talk about it.” Glancing at the students milling around us, she leaned in and whispered, “The police originally suspected that the bomber might be that new guy, since the bomb was in his locker. Plus, the tipper said the person responsible had been expelled.”
My eyes bugged. I meant expelled at this school! I began to cough. I might’ve saved the new guy’s life, but I’d also accidentally pegged him as the bomber.
Lainey pounded my back. “You okay? You choke on your gum or something?”
“I’m good,” I croaked and waved for her to continue.
“Turns out David had bomb parts in the back of his car.” Snorting, Lainey rolled her eyes. “I knew that creep wasn’t right in the head. Can you believe he almost blew up our school?”
I was too busy mentally freaking over the realization that in the conversation I’d had with Lainey in my dream, she hadn’t mentioned anything about Ethan. Not the fact that his locker had the bomb in it, nor that he’d been a suspect for a brief time. Just like my whole interchange with Ethan in the hall and him giving me that pen. Things were happening that I wasn’t expecting.
Why had none of this stuff shown up in my dream? Trying to muddle through it was making my head hurt, so I changed the subject. “How was football practice?”
Lainey looked away, suddenly interested in the two guys arm wrestling across a table against the wall. “Entertaining as always.” After a couple seconds, her attention shifted back to me. “I swear all they do is try to kill each other.”
“Did you talk to anyone?” God, I was so asking to have this rubbed in my face.
“Just the usual. Miranda and Sophia know the guys on the team better than I do.”
Uh huh. Normally Lainey would’ve followed that sentence with, “You should’ve come with us.” I only tolerated Miranda and Sophia because of Lainey, but it was very telling that she didn’t seem to miss me yesterday. At least I knew where she stood on truthfulness between friends.
The bell rang, ending our five-minute break. Even with Lainey standing beside me, I suddenly felt very alone. Sophia walked past
us, squinting as if she was having a hard time seeing. Nice. “I guess I’d better head off to Biology.”
“Drop it, Soph,” Lainey called after the curly-haired blonde. Glancing at me, she waved after Sophia. “Don’t let her or any of the other girls get to you, Nara. None of them could do a better job as goalie and they know it.”
Her comment should’ve made me feel better, but it didn’t. In the past, Lainey always had my back and visa versa. In some ways, I felt she still did, but a part of her seemed to be pulling away—and I didn’t know how to get her back.
After a much improved soccer practice, I sat in my car and checked my cell messages. Aunt Sage had left me a voicemail.
“Inara, sweetie, I heard about your school on the news. How terrifying. I’m glad everything turned out okay and you and your friends are safe. Stop by and see me sometime soon. Miss you.”
I sent a text back. Will do. Miss you too. Aunt Sage might be my dad’s sister, but unlike my father, she’d never stopped caring about our family. Whereas my mom was like the eye of the hurricane—eerily calm and solid in an intangible sort of way—Aunt Sage was the tempest raging all around you. She thrust herself into your life, pulling you into a tight hug before you even had a chance to say, “Welcome to my personal space.”
Once I left school, I stopped by a florist. Moisture and perfumed scents hung in the air as I browsed the floral arrangements on display in the tiny shop.
“Can I help you with something?” A young, mousy-faced guy in a green apron droned as he leaned on his elbows across the main counter.
I pointed to the bouquet of wild flowers sitting in the refrigerated case. “I’d like to send those to someone at Jefferson Hospital.”
He slowly straightened as if undraping himself from the counter was the last thing he wanted to do. “Do you want them delivered today?”
When I nodded, he lifted a small card and envelope from a plastic holder near the register, setting them on the counter. “Our delivery truck will be leaving in a half hour. Fill the card out and I’ll wrap the flowers.”
While he pulled the vase from the case, then began to wrap the sides to protect the flowers, my pen hovered over the card. It’s not like I was going to sign my name. Finally, I just wrote in indistinguishable print, I’m sorry. Get well soon and slipped the card inside the envelope. On the outside, I wrote her name, Lila Jenkins.
Setting the wrapped vase on the counter, the guy picked up the envelope I’d just sealed and said in a bored tone, “Will that be cash, check or charge?”
I pulled my checkbook out of my backpack, waving it. I’d have to do extra chores around the house to earn the money to put back in my account, but I didn’t care. Sending the flowers lessened my guilt a little.
As I drove home, a part of me was still angry that Lila would’ve let the bomb go off in the school without warning anyone, but I felt bad about what had happened to her. I never thought how my efforts to save others could’ve caused Lila to get hurt. In my dream David had threatened her when he thought she might rat him out. He might be in jail, but someone had taken his anger out on her. Did it have anything to do with what she knew?
And then there was Ethan. I’d saved lives yesterday, but in the process my phone tip had led the police to him. What if they hadn’t found the bomb parts in David’s car?
When I turned my car down our tree-lined street—currently an October kaleidoscope of burnt oranges, reds, yellows and deep purples—a concept we’d learned in Physics came back to me with a whole new meaning. To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Had anyone ever considered applying Newton’s 3rd Law of Motion on a metaphysical level? From small actions, other things could happen.
Terrible, unexpected things.
Chapter Four
The next morning I woke up feeling refreshed and…completely terrified. Not because some new catastrophe was going to happen, but because I couldn’t remember my dream.
My t-shirt crackled with electricity as I shoved my covers away and grabbed the purple pen on my nightstand. I held it poised over my open palm, hoping the familiar ritual would kick my mind into gear. Several seconds passed.
Nothing. Not even a glimmer of a memory.
Ugh. Throwing the pen across the room, I retrieved the blue pen Ethan had given me from my backpack. With a calm breath, I touched the pen to my skin and closed my eyes, beckoning inspiration.
When I opened them, only one word was written on my palm.
Ethan.
A sheen of sweat rose on my skin. Why did his name pop up when nothing else came to me? As cool morning air blew against my feverish body, I shivered and whispered, “I didn’t dream. At all.” And I had two tests and a game today.
My gaze snagged on my backpack and a glimmer of hope lifted my spirits. “Maybe at least one thing will go right,” I mumbled. Pulling out the folded piece of paper I’d rubbed yesterday before I blocked my dad from calling, I slowly unfolded it.
Tails! So much for believing all those Tails papers might somehow have been because I influenced the coin’s outcome. Fisting my hand around the piece of paper, I crumpled it into a tiny ball, then shoved it in my mouth. How dare it tell me I shouldn’t have interfered. I chewed with a vengeance. As the paper quickly soaked up my spit, I swiped the ever-present quarter from my nightstand. What a bunch of crap! Spitting the wad onto the coin, I tossed them both into the trash. “You don’t get an opinion anymore.”
Once the quarter wound its way through the mound of Tails papers, hitting the metal bottom with a final plink, I blinked at the trashcan.
An entire day of unknowns? My chest squeezed. Maybe I could crawl under the covers and pretend to have the flu. Several serious seconds of consideration followed, but I had to go to school. No one else was trained as goalie, not at my level. Any body was better than no body. Pushing the covers back, I murmured, “Today’s going to be a total disaster.”
“How’s school going?” Mom asked when I flopped down at the island a half hour later to pour myself a bowl of cereal.
My fingers tightened around the box. “Fine.”
Grabbing the orange juice from the fridge, Mom glanced at the door as it closed. “I see you have a game tonight.”
I’d put the schedule up on the fridge several weeks before, hoping she might come. Of all the times for her to notice. She hadn’t been to any of my games this year. Usually Mom and I spent our weekends together, but during the week, she worked long hours as her company’s CFO, often taking business trips a couple times a month. I never saw her at the end of a financial quarter.
“Uh, yeah.” I gulped. Not tonight. Please. “It’s not a big one though.”
Pouring the last of the juice into a glass, she caught my gaze. “I wish I could go, but work’s—”
“It’s no big deal.” I said quickly, both sad and frustrated that I felt relief.
Dead silence hung between us until Mom finally spoke. “I just wanted to wish you luck.” She flashed a quick smile. “Though you never seem to need it.” Buttoning her suit jacket, she tried to smooth the puckered material, then frowned at the bulging bottom two buttons. “You always come out on top.”
My face turned hot. She was so wrong. A half dozen unfinished projects sat in my bedroom: a papier-mâché small-scale model of the lawn area at the CVU (aka Central Virginia University, where I hoped to go to college.), a painting of my favorite playground at Hyde Park, and a hand-stained music recorder—well, the mouthpiece part at least. Another dozen projects took up space in my closet. I loved starting new projects, but quickly lost interest. When I saw myself working on my brand new project in my dreams, the excitement and newness quickly wore off.
Everything was always a do-over. I might be successfully teaching myself Latin—Yey, me. I translate web documents in a language no one speaks just for fun—but doubt always lingered in the back of my mind. Did I have any original talent that wasn’t perfected by a repeat performance? I started to confess, “You have no
idea—”
“You’re just like your dad…” she spoke over me, then paused, her lips thinning as her hand fluttered to the counter.
I’d seen the beginnings of that look in my dream night before last. I started to put my hand on hers, but knew better. We were like two icicles dangling from a rooftop, residing side-by-side, but permanently frozen apart. “What’s wrong?”
Her unfocused gaze shifted to the wall. “The weirdest thing happened yesterday morning. I was listening to the news station on my way to work when the radio fuzzed in and out and then music came through.” Her hand curled into a fist. “It was playing the song your father and I used as our wedding song.”
My stomach bottomed out. “Gotta love random music floating around on the air waves,” I said in a high-pitched tone as my mind replayed my dream about my dad’s call over and over in a torturous loop.
Mom’s eyes turned red as if she were trying not to cry. “What made it even stranger…the radio display flickered in and out. I could’ve sworn the station numbers were our wedding anniversary.”
I swallowed, unsure what to say. The way she’d looked in my dream…so broken, crumbling to pieces. I’d made sure she didn’t have to suffer, but sheer happenstance had toyed with her emotions anyway. Great. She might’ve taken her wedding ring off a few years ago, but it still sat in that stupid soap dish on the back of the kitchen sink—as if she planned to slip it back on any moment.
“You probably saw every radio station number at once because of the mountain’s interference with tower signals.”
Mom straightened her shoulders and gave a wry smile. “Probably true, but yesterday would’ve been our twentieth wedding anniversary.”
I’d totally forgotten the date.
Before I could respond, she pressed her palms to her heart-shaped face like she was hot and spoke in a lighter tone, “He was always so solid.” Her cheek-touch was just a cover as she quickly swiped her fingers under her eyes, brushing away unshed tears. “You’re just like him.”
Brightest Kind of Darkness Page 3
